She was smiling down at him. Ernie lifted his cap: it was a trick he had from his father. No one had ever paid the girl that common courtesy before, and she beamed upon him. The other passengers were descending by the steps. Ernie advanced lordly. "This way!" he ordered, and laid his roses on the driver's foot-board. "Don't wait for them! Put your foot on the wheel! Give over your hand! Now your left foot here!" For the first time in his life he felt masterful. Powers in him, of which he had possessed no previous knowledge, were thrusting through the ice of the customary. Ruth obeyed. She slipped her foot into his hand. It was slight, not small, yet beautifully compact. "It's dusty," she warned him. "No, it ain't," he answered, still in his high mood. He gripped it firmly. Her cool hand was in his. Then she trusted her whole weight to him. He felt his strength tried and answering to the test; and rejoiced in it. So did she. For a moment he balanced her, lifted her even, let her feel the power of his manhood. Then he lowered her swiftly. It was well, even gracefully done. Neither spoke; Ernie took his roses from the feet of the driver, who looked down with approval. "Go on!" he said sturdily. "That's the way!" The motor-bus that was to take them back to the hotel was turning in the open space before the public-house. Without a word they climbed on to the top. The bus dropped down Church Street, past the long-backed church with its square tower standing on the grave-strewn mound solemn in the growing dusk. Ernie placed his roses in Ruth's lap. Her eyes were shining, her voice soft. "For me?" she asked in her deep thrilling voice. For a second he laid his hand on hers. "Oh, they are beauties!" She buried her face in them. "My Miss Caryll learned me the names of a tidy few o them when we was in the Dower-house afoor she come to Beachbourne," she said. A motor-car stood at Mr. Trupp's door as the bus reached the _Star_. The two talked quietly of the famous surgeon, their heads together. The chauffeur got down from the Doctor's car and crossed slowly towards the bus. He was small and wore black gaiters that glittered in the lamp-light like a wet slug. He stood beneath them in the road, and then gave a low whistle. Ernie looked down. Alf was leering up at him. CHAPTER XXXIII UNDER THE STARS The bus rolled on, past Saffrons Croft, the stars now twittering in the branches of the elms. "Who was that?" asked Ruth. "My brother," answered Ernie, a thought surlily. "He doesn't favour you," said Ruth after a pause. "No," answered Ernie. "He's a master-man now, Alf is. Got his own garage and men working for him and all. He drives for Mr. Trupp." At the pier, at Ernie's suggestion, they got down. It was dark now; the sea moon-silvered and still. They walked along, rubbing elbows. Ernie broke the silence, to ask a question that had long haunted him.